Dead Man's Crew
by It'sTimeToDance
Summary: Why is it, the one chance he has for immortality, and he gives it to a blacksmith's apprentice? Jack's POV at the end of 'At World's End'


The sword veered ruthlessly into Turner's unguarded chest. It made a sickening crunch as it broke through skin. Muscles. Bones. Jack Sparrow, infamous for his inhumanly strong stomach, felt bile rise in his throat like acid, and his grip on the throbbing heart began to loose it's hold. He felt his eyes bug out too the point he thought they'd pop right on out of the sockets.

Jones twisted his sword, plunging it deeper into Turner's dying heart. His pained cries rang through Jack's ears like the battle cry of the Kracken. He squirmed under the blade's hold, his back arching up and down, mouth gaping like a washed up fish when it ran out of screams. It was a painful thing to look at, the blood spewing from the hold in his chest like someone had pulled out the plug that held it in. Jack, for the slightest moment, didn't quit believe it.

Of course, he could never be quit sure of anything he saw, Jack Sparrow. His drunken mind tended to play vicious little tricks on him over the years, making shadows into sea creatures and men into bloodthirsty monsters. Usually, he had no troubles sorting out the real from the fake.

This, he was sure, was all to real.

Elizabeth's horrified shrieks were a tragic reminder of that.

Jones' tentacle beard seemed to frolic along with him, twisting and turning and gently licking his face like a happy dog. They hardly seemed to be the deadly weapons Jack Sparrow knew they were.

Jones laughed. Throaty, victorious, raw laughs that send chills up Jack's spine. He yanked the sword from Turner's chest with an unminding glee, staring down at the dying man's torchered face like a painter did at his completed work. And then, Jack knew, all doubts aside, that any human that had once lived inside this monster was gone. Not the heartbroken sailor he'd always been made out to be, someone who had been wronged so he decided to wrong the rest of the world. No, he was now part of the seas he haunted, cold and ruthless.

So why was it so hard to kill him.

Jack Sparrow--literally--held Davvy Jones' heart _in his palm. _He had the power to do what thousands of men around the globe wished to do. He _could _kill him. End the thousand year battle that he thought would never end. Just push the bloody steel into the thing and be done with it.

But something told him not to.

Not his concience--that had gone with the last of his teeth--that had stopped him. Something else, some little voice in the back of his head telling him to wait. Wait for something.

"Come on, stay with me. Your alright. Stay with me!" Elizabeth begged, gently slapping Turner's sweating cheeks, as though that would meand the hole in his heart. His flickering eyes looked at her, without really looking. As though he wasn't sure of what he was seeing.

_Kill him. Kill him. _

"My son!" cried Bootstrap Bill. Jack saw the blur of him jump from between the crates and onto Jones' back. The two tumbled about the chaos, crashing onto the opposite end, the wood crunching under their weight. Jack held the broken sabre over the beating heart.

"You will not forstall my judgment!" cried the sea captain, holding his jagged knife above Bill's own heart. He lurched, a gurgling noise bubbling in his throat like that of a drowning man.

Jack held onto Turner's limp hand, dropping it as Jones turned his horrified eyes towards him. The sabre clattered to the ground calttered to the wood beside the pierced heart. It dripped no blood.

Jones eased his head back, his mouth open. No signs of anger reeled on his slimy face, nor fear. Emptyness, was all Jack Sparrow saw.

"Calipso." he whispered as though in prayer, stumbling back onto the ships edge, letting himself fall into darkness of the maelstrom. Lost at sea, like he always knew he would.

Elizebeth still cried, clutching to the dead man's chest _(very much coincedental, people). _Looking ahead, the sailors of the Flying Dutchman closing in.

Jack grabbed Elizebeth, dragging her away from his body. She clawed at him, screamed into the foggy night air. He held tight, grabbing the closest rope and swinging away from the ghost ship and towards his Black Pearl, leaving the cursed crew to their new captain.

A/N This is very drabble-y. I just watched the movie, so I was thinking about it.


End file.
